


Huntress

by NimDamy



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Supernatural, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awesome Pepper Potts, Female Dean Winchester, Gen, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Episode: s05e22 Swan Song, Post-Iron Man 1, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:35:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23581723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NimDamy/pseuds/NimDamy
Summary: Deanna heard the woman on the other end clear her throat and something like the shuffling of papers.“Miss Winchester, I have strong reasons to believe that your father was born in 1954 as the illegitimate son of Howard Stark. Which makes you the last living relative of Anthony Stark.”
Relationships: Bobby Singer & Dean Winchester, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Pepper Potts & Dean Winchester, Tony Stark & Dean Winchester
Comments: 10
Kudos: 97





	Huntress

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!  
> so, long story short, this whole fic/AU was inspired by a tumblr post comparing how similar RDJ and Jeffery Dean Morgan look, and somebody having a headcanon about their characters being brothers.  
> I literally cannot find the original post, only screenshots of it, so if you know the original post, i would be forver grateful for a link!  
> Without further ado, I present you Huntress.  
> (un-beta-ed)

The blinking light from the new phone she’d bought just before the beginning of her Vegas binge was equal parts tempting and mocking to Deanna’s alcohol mudded mind. By now, she was well on the way to drunk, but the hangover was an issue for future-Deanna to deal with. 

Almost a month had passed since the events of Stull Cemetery and the loss of her brother was still something raw and ugly in her chest. Sure, Sammy wouldn’t have agreed to her coping mechanism, but Sammy was no longer here, now, was he? He was not, and the realisation drove Deanna to down whatever strong liquor was in the glass the bartender had pushed in front of her. 

“Bad break-up?” the other woman prompted her from behind the bar. 

Cas’ blue eyes flashed in front of her eyes, the way they had looked the night before they met with Lucifer and Sammy said yes. The last time he had held her, his breath icy hot against her bare skin. The phenomenal fight they had the very next morning, and the last time she’d seen him, asking if he was God after he had healed her. His denial and, afterwards, his disappearance. 

“You could say that, I guess,” Deanna replied with a grimace, as she pushed the glass back to the bartender and gestured for another drink. 

“You’re too good for him anyway, hon,” the woman said as she refilled Deanna’s glass. “Now, he don’t happen to be tall, dark hair, blue eyes and rugged, does he?” she asked, nodding towards someone to the right and behind Deanna’s spot. 

Deanna downed the glass in a single gulp, swallowing her shudder with the drink. ‘Cause if Cas had followed her, she couldn’t be trusted to take the best of decisions. 

She picked up the phone, turning around and fake-reading a text while she actually scanned the rest of the bar. It was easy to spot the man the bartender was talking about, even in her somewhat inebriated state and despite the dim lights. His eyes were scanning the room, jumping from one person to another in no particular order, a stark contrast to the almost inhuman stillness of the rest of his body. It hit her then. She'd seen that same posture in her father, and in Bobby and even in Cas, sometimes, but she wasn't really sure that Cas counted. The stranger held himself like a soldier, highly aware of his surroundings. 

Also, he was, possibly, the one person in the bar without a drink in his hand. His long hair and day-old stubble pleasantly contrasted his fancy suit and immaculately pressed white shirt. 

For a fraction of a second, Deanna felt something not too far from regret at the stranger not being Cas. But it was gone as fast as it had come. And Deanna was just a woman, she couldn't help but appreciate the view. 

Turning back around, she winked at the bartender refilling her glass. 

“Not him. Not that I’d mind getting to know him better.” 

The other woman laughed. 

“Well, he’s been hanging around for the last few nights. Showed up a couple days after you did. Never gets anything, but I don’t have a death wish.”

Deanna barked out a laugh that was half amusement, half despair. 

“Death wish, huh? Guess I’m well past that,” she muttered to herself. “What do you think he’d drink?” she then asked the bartender.

“You are crazy, hon. But that’s none of my business. Lemme see,” the bartender studied the stranger for a few seconds. “Bourbon Old Fashioned.”

“Send one over, what the hell,” Deanna nodded at the bartender. “Put it on my tab.”

The bartender grinned at Deanna, and started fixing the drink. She poured it in a glass and topped it off with an orange peel, then pushed it towards Deanna. 

“You wanna do the honors yourself?”

Deanna laughed as she shook her head. “I might be crazy, but I don’t have a death wish either.”

She watched as one of the barely-dressed waitresses took the glass to the man. 

He asked something, but his face remained expressionless. Then the waitress pointed at Deanna and he looked at her and his lips twitched for a fraction of a second, not quite enough to be considered a smile, but not quite nothing either. He nodded in her direction once, downed the drink in one gulp and set the glass back on the girl’s tray. Then he winked at Deanna, but it could have been just a trick of the light. 

She turned for a second back towards the bar, to get her own glass, once again filled by the bartender. When she turned back towards the crowd, the guy was gone.

“Oh, well,” she muttered, “it was worth a shot.”

Once again, she fiddled with her phone. She had several missed calls from an unknown number. Well, she was retired, and Bobby deserved the probably pissed caller bothering him for giving away her new number. 

She was considering whether calling her old friend was worth the drama, when she felt someone slide in close to her. She was already reaching for the angel blade concealed in her boot, when a warm hand settled on her upper arm.

“Don’t worry, doll, I just wanted to say thank you for the drink,” the stranger chuckled, his breath warm on her cheek.

Just as fast, he was gone.

Deanna took a deep breath, trying to force her heart to slow down. She dared another look at the crowd. The handsome stranger was nowhere to be found. 

She took her phone and nodded at the bartender as she made her way to the elevator. The stranger may have been plain human, but she would feel better behind a locked door. Alone. 

The stranger watched her leave from his hiding spot. 

* * *

The ringing of the phone made several jackhammers start pounding inside Deanna’s skull. She blindly reached for the device, cursing at whoever was calling for disturbing her drunken sleep and at herself for not remembering to switch the phone to silent before falling asleep in equal measure. 

‘Unknown Caller’ glared at her from the too bright screen. 

Deanna sighed and answered. Might as well get this over with. 

“Hello?”

“Hello, is this Deanna Winchester?” the person on the other end, a woman by the sound of their voice, asked.

“Who’s asking?”

“My name is Virginia Potts, CEO of Stark Industries. I have this phone number from a mr Robert Singer and I am searching for miss Winchester for a personal matter,” the woman replied.

“Well, I’m sorry, lady, but you are out of luck. I am retired, which, apparently, Bobby forgot to mention.” Deanna wiped her face with her hand. Damn, last night had been excessive, even by her standards. Which was saying something. 

“I believe we have a misunderstanding, miss Winchester.” The woman’s overly polite tone was beginning to get on Deanna’s nerves. 

“Look, miss Potts, I'm sorry, but I'm retired and hungover and if you managed to get Bobby to give you my number, you can just call him back and ask him to point you towards any other hunter. So, please, just, i don’t know, lose my number and let’s both pretend this conversation never happened. Goodbye.” 

Deanna was about to end the call, when the woman’s next words made her freeze. 

“This call is about your father.”

Of course. Four years after his death, three since they’d rescued him from Hell and sent him to Heaven and John Winchester was still haunting her. 

Maybe he would do so forever. 

She shuddered at the thought, feeling the sudden need for a drink.

“The bastard’s been dead for four years, miss,” she said. “What could it possibly be about him?”

Deanna heard the woman on the other end clear her throat and something like the shuffling of papers. 

“Miss Winchester, I have strong reasons to believe that your father was born in 1954 as the illegitimate son of Howard Stark. Which makes you the last living relative of Anthony Stark.”

Deanna was thankful that she was sitting on the bed, because she doubted her legs would have been able to support her.

“This must be a joke,” she muttered. “There is absolutely no way that this is true.”

“No, miss Winchester, this is not a joke. I have sent some of the documents, via email, to your friend, mr. Singer. Talk to him, perhaps, if you find this hard to believe. He will know how to get in touch with me, when you have made up your mind. Have a good day, miss Winchester.” Without waiting for a reply, the woman ended the call. 

Deanna stared at the phone in her hand. Then, she pinched herself, just to check if she was somehow dreaming this. She wasn’t. 

So Deanna did what she always did, whenever life stopped making sense. 

She called Bobby.

* * *

They met up in Casper, Wyoming, in a rundown motel.

Bobby handed her a thick manila envelope and she spent the night and most of the following day studying the documents inside. Most of them looked official, and all of them had the same letterhead at the top, reading  _ 'From the Office of Virginia Potts, CEO, Stark Industries' _ . 

The papers told a story that made Deanna’s head hurt. 

Apparently, Howard Stark, founder and former CEO of Stark Industries had had an affair with one Millie Taylor, just a few weeks before her wedding to one Henry Winchester. The wedding which had been arranged by Henry's parents, at their son's request. 

Millie gave birth to a baby boy later that year. And his birth was just a tad bit too early for how healthy and well-developed the baby was, but nobody asked any questions. 

It, of course, could have been a coincidence. But the documents were accompanied by pictures, some of which Deanna recognised as her father while the others were of Anthony Stark, Howard Stark and Henry Winchester. 

Deanna could not deny the obvious resemblance between John and Anthony. 

The last of the documents was a handwritten note, presumably from Potts herself. 

_ "Of course, further DNA testing will either confirm or deny this. However, I have firm reasons to believe that John Winchester is the son of Howard Stark and Millie Taylor. Let me know when you have made up your mind,"  _ was all it said, followed by an email address and a phone number. 

She was considering actually calling for Cas, but then Bobby interrupted her with burgers and he basically confiscated both the documents and her phone and forced her to get some rest.

So Deanna slept for 13 hours straight, the combined exhaustion of the 11 hour drive to Casper and the following hours reading through what felt like hundreds of pages finally catching up to her. 

* * *

"What do you make of this, Bobby?" she asked the next day, over what had to be some of the worst pizza she had ever eaten. But it was food and she was hungry, so anything else could be overlooked. 

"Dee… I don’t know. On one hand, I find it hard to believe. On the other hand, that Miss Potts is one of the fiercest women I've ever seen, and she did some damn good research. And you can't deny that your old man and that boy Stark look a little too much alike to be a coincidence." He took a long swallow from his flask. "But you could ask Cas about it."

For the, maybe, hundredth time, Deanna got the feeling that Bobby knew way more than he was letting slip. 

"I have nothing to say to him," she snarled, hand rubbing absentmindedly at her shoulder, where the imprint of the angel's hand was still visible against her skin, even though it had begun to fade a little. 

"Then I don't know what to say to you, girl. You and I both know we don't live in a world of coincidences. And you have nothing tying you down anywhere on this heaven-forgotten planet anymore," he told her, something too close to pity flashing on his face for a second. 

For a while, they ate in silence, everything a still-fresh wound in their hearts. 

But after Deanna washed down the last bite of the greasy pizza with half a bottle of some cheap beer, she pulled the carefully folded piece of paper out of her pocket and laid it on the table. 

Perhaps finding something to tie her down, perhaps it wouldn't be so bad. 

She typed the message one handed and sent it before she could overthink it. 

_ "Let's talk. _

_ -D. W." _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://ifunny.co/picture/i-m-half-convinced-that-robert-downey-jr-and-jeffrey-ONddKodK5  
> this is the screenshot of the tumblr post  
> i hope you guys enjoyed this!  
> as usual, take all the questions/remarks/love/hate/any other reactions to the comment box below!  
> stay safe y'all!


End file.
